


The Opposite of Fine

by singingwithoutwords



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Statutory Rape, Teen Angst, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Issues, more tags may be added, psychological abuse, the author is a bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16-year-old Tony Stark is fine.  Just fine.  Sure, his father doesn't say more than two sentences to him any given week, his best friend is a computer program he made himself, he'll have sex with anyone who holds still long enough, he's been a hardcore drinker since he was 12, and he's pretty sure his dad's business partner is creeping on him, but screw it.  As long as he can fake a smile, he's absolutely fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love angsty high school AUs and I don't care who knows.

The first thing Tony heard when he stepped into his bedroom was the soft bell-chime that said he had a message waiting.

“Welcome home, Master Anthony. You have an urgent message from your father.” 

“My father can take his message and fuck himself with it,” Tony responded, flopping on his bed without bothering to take off his jacket.

“That would be unwise, Master Anthony. Shall I play the message?” 

Tony sighed, wishing he dared ignore it. But his father never left him messages that _could_ be safely ignored, so he rolled onto his stomach and kicked off his shoes. “Go ahead.”

There was an acknowledging hum, and Jarvis's soothing and respectful voice was replaced by the absentminded arrogance of Howard Stark.

“Dress yourself like a decent human being for once. We have dinner plans. Be ready by 5.”

“Shall I replay the message?” 

“Just delete the stupid thing and tell Dad to go jump off a cliff.”

“That would be unwise.”

It was easy to forget sometimes that Jarvis wasn't real. Not an actual person, with which he could hold actual conversations. He was a computer program, a series of codes and audio files who could only respond to what was in his databanks. And since Tony had built the first version of his software when he was eleven, it stood to reason he was still mostly limited wish fulfillment.

“Someday I'm gonna be able to tell him to jump off a cliff,” Tony said, sitting up reluctantly and shrugging out of his jacket. Jarvis just hummed, his default response to any prompt or comment he wasn't yet programmed for. “Really, I will. Access Dad's schedule.”

Jarvis hummed again. Twice. “I do not have access to that data.” 

“Dammit,” Tony said, kicking off the jeans he'd worn to school – the public school that was so far below his genius, but going pissed his father off no end so it was worth it – and went to his closet to see if he had any clean suits. Howard Stark thought any man who was a decent human being didn't wear anything unless it came with a tie. “Okay, um... access kitchen schedule, see what they have planned.”

“Kitchen schedule accessed. No family meal preparations are scheduled for this evening." 

Okay, so they weren't having guests over. “Access... access garage interface. Are any vehicles scheduled to leave around 5?” 

Jarvis hummed while he obeyed, and Tony shoved himself into a tailored dark blue suit and went hunting for his stupid dress shoes. “Master Stark has requested the Aston Martin be made available to him for the evening.”

Tony mulled that over. Aston Martin wasn't big enough for them and a driver, which meant his dad would be doing the driving himself. That meant whatever their plans were, it would be at a private residence, and his dad would be keeping drinking to a minimum: he wanted to impress someone. 

He supposed he could just ask his father where they were going. He might even tell him. But Howard had a habit of responding to every question his only child asked with a question of his own. Namely, “is public school melting your brain?” Less annoying to figure it out himself.

 “Jarvis, has anyone new been added to the security list in the past week?”

That took several hums for him to work though. He really should upgrade Jarvis with a new thinking sound. Hold music. If only he had the hardware to support an actual AI. “Odinson and affiliates were added to the security list eight days ago, Master Anthony.”

“Which means I'm meeting the Odinsons. Solved it!” 

“Well done, Master Anthony.” Sadly, the congratulations of a robot were all the praise he could hope for in this house.

 “I'm leaving, Jarvis. Keep the bed warm for me.”

“Good night.”

 

* * *

 

The Aston Martin was solid white with cream interior, custom built to Howard Stark's specifications. Tony found it incredibly ugly.

 His father was waiting impatiently next to the car, eying his watch. It was still ten minutes to 5, but nothing Tony did was good enough for his father, so he wasn't surprised to be treated as if he were an hour late.

 Tony waited politely until Howard was in the car before climbing in as well, buckling his seat belt. They didn't talk. Howard wasn't interested in how his day had gone, and he thought Tony was too stupid to keep up with what he'd been doing at work. Tony could only hope the Odinson homestead wasn't too far away, or this was going to be one unbearable car ride.

 Howard drove in silence for all of ten minutes before he couldn't contain himself any longer. “You could have at least combed your hair.”

 “I did.”

“Don't contradict me, Anthony. You look like a beggar.”

 “A beggar in a $400 suit. Right.”

“Must you snark at everything I say to you?”

“ _Must_ I? _”_ Tony repeated. “I guess not. Why?”

 He was safe from being smacked while the car was in motion, at least. Howard was a two-handed driver.

“You will behave yourself, Anthony.” Howard said with a note of firm finality. “This contract is extremely important, and I'm not going to let you ruin it by acting like a child. Am I understood?”

 Tony thought, for a very brief moment, about saying no. His only real goal in life was to piss his father off, and screwing up a deal for Stark Industries would certainly do that. But in the end, it wouldn't really be worth it. “Understood.”

 The rest of the mercifully short drive passed in silence.

 Odinson and family lived in what Tony could only describe as a mountain. The main house was a towering stone edifice that looked like it was made of square towers built one right up against the other. There didn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to the tower heights, making it look even more like an actual mountain. The walls were covered with intricately carved designs as far as Tony could see, and the massive front doors were straight out of an old Viking hall or something. Someone had gone to great lengths and expense, and frankly Tony thought the Aston Martin was the wrong way to impress whoever lived in this madhouse.

 The 'dinner' was apparently meant to be a party of some sort; there were a number of people milling around the vast entryway when Tony followed Howard through the doors. Business suits and fancy dresses were everywhere, and Howard didn't even notice when Tony slipped off to the side and away from him, wanting to find himself a nook to hide in.

 He found a mostly empty side room and flopped down in a chair, loosening his tie. He had probably twenty minutes to himself before Howard hunted him down to be all “this is my genius son, blah blah blah, fruit of my loins, almost as smart as me, isn't he cute”, so he pulled out his phone and got busy while he still could.

 It took all of a minute for Tony to lose himself in the hardware upgrades he could make to Jarvis to maximize the amount of commands he could react to, and the world ceased to exist. Social gatherings weren't really his thing; creating was where he shined. He could stay immersed in lines of code for days on end and come up with something better than even his father could make.

 The phone was much smaller than the screen back home, and it was a bit difficult to work with the finicky little changes and tweaks he wanted, so he didn't notice anyone was even near him until a hand landed on his knee.

 He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he yelped in surprise and fumbled his phone for a second, heart racing. “Jesus, don't _do_ that to me!”

“You're not mingling. Your father will be upset.”

 “My father can kiss my lily white ass. Hi, Obie.” Obadiah Stane was Howard's righthand man and a close family friend. Tony had grown up around the man, and kind of liked him still, despite how their relationship had changed recently.

 “You shouldn't say things like that, Tony,” Obie said, smiling at Tony, massaging his knee just slightly. “You might get your mouth washed out.”

 “Who's gonna do it? You?” Tony countered, making himself smile. He had his suspicions about Obie, but he had a general rule about who he slept with- no one more than five years older unless he gained something from it.

 Obie patted his knee, fixing Tony's tie. “If you plan to hide from Howard, I know where there's a guest bedroom nearby. We can... discuss washing your mouth out.”

 Creepy _and_ bad at pickup lines. No, thank you. “Dad's gonna come looking for me any minute. Sorry.”

 Tony stood, leaning down to kiss Obie's cheek out of long habit. His target moved, though, and he found his lips touching Obie's.

 Before he had a chance to react other than a quick mental what the fuck and a blink, a light flashed to his left. Camera.

Shit.

Obie didn't bother waiting around; he surged to his feet, brushing past Tony, and ran from the room trying not to look guilty. Leaving Tony alone and caught.

 “So the son of the great Howard Stark enjoys kissing older men. How... juicy, I believe is the word.”

 Tony fixed his suit self-consciously and ran a hand through his hair. “It was an accident.”

 “It did not appear to be one from here, Stark.” The holder of the phone with the incriminating photo leaned back against the wall, smiling. He was tall, lean, late teens or early twenties, with ridiculously pale skin and long dark hair. “I wonder- should this image surface in the tabloids, what would the impact be?”

 Tony wanted to punch him. But first things first, find out what kind of consequences punching would bring. “Who the hell are you?”

 He laughed. It sounded cold and a bit bitter. “Unrecognized in my father's house. Again. Your reputation for obtuseness is deserved, I see.”

“Fuck you.” Yeah, no punching Odinson's son. Dammit. “Cut to the chase- what'll it take to keep that picture to yourself?”

 “Indeed. What could you possibly have that would be worth my silence...”

 Not money, obviously. Drugs? He didn't look like a user, but he could be new to the game. He wouldn't compromise SI if he could help it, but-

“My chamber is closer than those for guests.”

Oh.

 Well. Best possible outcome, really. Tony was by no means a virgin in either direction, and if the asshole just wanted to blackmail him for sex...

“Sounds fair to me,” Tony said, smiling. That seemed to throw the guy for a loop. He'd probably been expecting outraged denial. “That is, as long as you're sure you can handle me.”

 “I am very certain I can.”

 

* * *

 

It was more than an hour before Tony finally made it back to the main floor. His tie had gone missing on him, so he'd had to adjust the badly wrinkled collar of his shirt, adjust his jacket to hide the sweat, and try his damnedest not to limp too badly.

 He caught his father's eye for just a moment. It was pretty obvious that Howard knew what he'd been up to, if not with whom, and he was pissed off. There'd be hell to pay when they got home, but it had most definitely been worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony's limp had grown a lot more noticeable by the following morning, and he was grateful for the very plushly upholstered seats in the town car. For such a girly-looking guy, Loki Odinson was a hell of a lover; once his ass stopped hurting, Tony might have to look him up again.

The driver pulled into the school parking lot and let him off at the front entrance with a polite goodbye. Not even the staff really approved of the fact that he went to public school, but damned if he was going to go anywhere else. The classes were easy, he had plenty of time to do whatever the hell he wanted, and private schools just didn't have _suppliers._ Tony was 16, he couldn't purchase alcohol legally- he needed to get it somewhere.

Also, normal teenagers were entertaining.

When he'd first entered high school, word had gotten around he might be gay. He disproved that by sleeping with the hot new art teacher. Then half the varsity football team just so they wouldn't think he was straight. The counselors had gone digging for trauma, found none, and most had washed their hands of him. He was on year number two now, and it was basically just accepted that he'd probably slept with everyone in the school under the age of 30, and he wasn't the least bit ashamed of it.

He still got teased and most people didn't really want to be around him because he refused to be their glorified ATM, but fuck them. This was just one more way to piss off Howard.

Tony walked to his locker, running through his schedule. He could sit out PE, the teacher was a pushover who couldn't resist his big sad puppy eyes. Maybe spend it in the computer lab, it was empty during that block. Test in history he hadn't studied for, but he'd finished the textbook last month so he was good there.

“Nice limp there, Stark,” someone said good-naturedly from behind him. “Who fucked you last night, Hulk Hogan?”

Tony didn't even bother to turn around, sorting through his books. “Your mom, actually. We had to borrow your girlfriend's strapon, but don't worry- we washed it afterwards.”

The choking noise was actually kind of funny, and he limped away from his locker with pride, American History textbook tucked under his arm.

“You're a real ass sometimes, Tony.”

“He started it,” Tony protested. “As if you even _have_ a strapon. Everyone knows the heat you pack is 100% natural.”

“See?” Natasha said, elbowing him in the side. “A real ass.”

“You're flattering me, Nat.”

Natasha wasn't exactly a friend as most people would see it. They really only ever interacted when they were fighting because Tony was on a campaign to scar her boyfriend for life. But she wasn't awed by his name, wasn't interested in his money, didn't want to sleep with him, and didn't try to kick his ass. She was also the only person who didn't mind partnering with him in PE, so Tony thought of her as a sort of cautious semi-sorta-kinda-maybe-friend. He was closer to Jarvis, but then they lived together.

“You're thinking disgusting shit again,” Natasha noted. “Stop it.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I'm imagining you and me and Clint in a hot tub. You're the only one with a suit on, and you're-ow! Okay, got it. This is my room. Bye.”

Tony stepped into the classroom to find it mostly empty. He liked to show up a bit early, so he could properly set himself up for classwork and funtime work, so only two people had beaten him, and he was able to claim the far corner desk all for himself.

“Good morning,” one of the other students said, waving absently.

“Morning, guy whose name I forgot,” Tony replied, taking out his phone.

“Bruce Banner.”

“Ooh, alliteration. How can I not remember alliteration?” Tony asked, laughing. “Sorry, Bruce. I'll remember your name one of these days.”

Bruce was already absorbed back into his... a quick read of the open page closest to Tony suggested physics. Who did physics this early in the morning? Tony tried to never do physics before noon.

Other students started to trickle in, filling the seats one by one, until the bell rang to start homeroom.

 

* * *

 

He did manage to beg off PE, but the computer lab was sadly barred to him. He had to content himself with the bleachers and the phone he wasn't technically supposed to have but no one bothered trying to take away from him.

Class went very noisily on around him while he worked, draped over the bottom bench with his head hanging off the end. Sitting was for losers, and so was basketball. He had better projects to work on, and he had a personal trainer and the gym at home to keep him in shape.

A basketball bounced off the bleachers above him, making the whole structure shudder slightly, and he sighed. Way too hard to be an accident, but at least it hadn't hit him. Maybe private or home schooling wasn't so bad...

No, no, he was staying here. His public school, you no can has.

“I thought, um... phones aren't allowed. I-in school.”

Tony glanced up, grinning. Bruce had a bit of a stutter when he was saying more than just his name, apparently. “What can I say? I'm an exception to a lot of rules. What brings you to the Lazy People Corner?”

“I, uh... I have a condition. I'm exempt. From PE, I mean.”

“Cool.” Tony sat up, patting the bench next to him. “C'mon, sit with me a bit. You aren't still mad I forgot your name, are you?”

“You, uh, didn't. F-forget my name. I- this is my first day. Here.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense- there's no way in hell I'd forget a cool name like Bruce Banner. I'm Tony.” Tony offered his hand, and Bruce shook it. Hesitant or just shy, it was hard to tell. “I saw your book this morning. Heavy stuff.”

Bruce actually blushed. Tony swore his glasses fogged up a little.

“Not that I have room to talk, really- I stole my dad's schematics for an unmanned submersible last night and I'm working on redesigning the propulsion system for better output with less fuel.”

“Really?”

Tony couldn't help but grin. Usually when he mentioned anything containing the words 'schematics', 'redesign', 'output', or 'fuel', people's eyes glazed over. Not Bruce's. His lit the fuck up.

“Can I see?”

“Bruce, buddy, I have a feeling you and me are gonna be epic science bros.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the school day was pretty boring, except when Tony found out he and Bruce had the same English class for last bell. Ms. Hill had just kind of rolled her eyes when she saw them talking and ignored them except to tell Bruce even geniuses were required to do homework.

The final bell rang, releasing the hordes, and Tony and Bruce started packing up their things while the rest of the class stampeded out into the hall.

“So, I gotta ask,” Tony said, slipping his phone into his bag and standing. “I know I'm in English 10 because I'm a lazy little bastard, but why are you?”

“I'm not that smart,”

“Says the guy with a college-level physics textbook in his bag.”

“I'm good at sciences,” Bruce said, shrugging. “I'm not so good at... well... not-sciences.”

Tony thought that over as they headed for the school doors and an afternoon of freedom. “Okay, fair enough. As long as you speak fluent Science, I guess it doesn't matter. Too bad class ended- we were this close to getting the casing shape right. Hey, wanna come over?”

Bruce pushed his glasses back up his nose. “What?”

“Come over, we can keep working on it. I promise to have you home by midnight.”

Bruce blushed again, ducking his head slightly. “I... I don't know. It's, y'know, pretty short notice...”

“Please, Bruce? Please please please? You're my science bro, I can't do this without you, not even in my state-of-the-art design lab and accompanying workshop.”

“Lab?”

And science bro was caught! “Yeah. Some of the stuff I've got is so high-tech it isn't even on the market yet. Dad lets me test all the best toys.”

“I'd, uh... h-have to call home. To see if it's okay.”

“Sure, go ahead and use my phone. Doesn't look like my ride's here yet, anyway.”

Tony sat on the bench, letting Bruce wander off to make his call in peace. Natasha and Clint walked by, and he blew a kiss at them just to make Clint wonder if he should be freaked Tony was blowing him kisses or pissed Tony was blowing his girlfriend kisses.

Bruce wrapped up his phone call pretty quickly, handing back Tony's phone. “Amelia said it was fine. As long as I'm home by 10. Is, is that okay?”

“10 is totally okay,” Tony said, smiling. Bruce was almost definitely just a bit shy. “C'mon, my driver just pulled up. Ever ridden in a town car before?”

If the driver was surprised to see someone else climb in the backseat with Tony, he kept it to himself. Professional to the end, that was everyone who worked for his dad ever. Bruce, who admitted he'd never even seen a town car in real life, spent the first ten minutes or so trying not to fiddle with everything. The ride was quiet, but not the stony nonverbal silence that it would have been with Howard; just two science bros hanging out and unwinding after a hard day at school.

The house, when they reached it, was buzzing quietly. Today was lawn care day, and the landscapers were out in force making sure every since blade of grass and flower stem was where it should be.

“You live here?” Bruce asked in a voice of awed disbelief.

“You should see the main house,” Tony joked, laughing when Bruce's expression became almost horrified. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding- this is the main house. We're not royalty or anything, you should see the Odinsons' house, that thing is _massive_. It's so massive that the word massive doesn't do it justice. Let's stop by my room real quick to ditch our stuff, then we'll go to the lab. It's got remote access to R &D at the main facility, so we can pull in a grownup when we get stuck. Or bored.”

Bruce nodded, trailing along behind Tony. He didn't seem to mind being the quiet one, at least.

“Welcome home, Master Anthony,” Jarvis said as soon as they stepped into the room. “How was your day?”

“Just fine, Jarvis. Has my schedule been modified since this morning?”

“No, Master Anthony.”

“Who- what-”

“Don't worry, it's just my personal computer. Jarvis, access allowed access database, please.”

“Accessed.”

“Add a new profile, set permissions to full. Name, Bruce Banner.”

Jarvis hummed a moment while he worked. “Done.”

“Say hey, Bruce,” Tony said, tossing his bag on his bed. “Jarvis is gonna need a voice sample so he knows it's you.”

“Uh... hi?” Bruce said uncertainly. “It's, uh... n-nice to meet you? I guess?”

“A pleasure, Master Banner.”

“Jarvis, we're going to the lab- redirect only urgent messages or live contact from my father.”

“Understood. Enjoy yourself.”

“I always do,” Tony said, grabbing Bruce's hand and dragging him back into the hall and down the stairs. “You're gonna love it, Bruce, it's science bro heaven.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More science bros, yay!  
> Also background on Bruce and Howard being a dick, so... not so yay.

'Science bro heaven' was something of an understatement.

When Tony said lab, Bruce had been picturing a room with a couple computers, maybe some tools. Nothing too fancy, Tony was still in high school, after all. But the glorious sight that met his eyes was most definitely not what the average high school kid had access to.

There were computers. Five of them, all with massive screens, each with its own table. There were screens hung on the wall as well, another table buried in paper blueprints and notebooks, a handful of very comfortable chairs, and what Bruce recognized vaguely as a 3D holographic projection system. The one most countries couldn't justify in their budgets. Right in the middle of Tony's lab.

“Wow.”

“I know, right?” Tony grinned, seeming to understand what he was feeling perfectly. “It's really just the prototype, software's hilariously limited, but I'm working on rewriting some of Jarvis's code so he can hook into it. Free up some processing power, really get a feel for what it can do, you know?”

Bruce nodded, lost for words. He was afraid to touch anything. He was afraid to _ask_ if he could touch anything.

Tony's grin got even wider, and he dragged Bruce bodily to the projection stand. “Go ahead, ask it for a basic shape. Any shape. Just say 'shape', then the shape you want.”

“Um... a c- sh-shape, cube.”

The base whirred softly, and a translucent red cube, roughly half a foot on each side, flickered into sight above it.

“W-wow.”

“I know!” Even though this was Tony's toy they were playing with, Tony seemed just as excited about it as Bruce. “Hold on, let me transfer the schematics for that engine. This would be so much easier if everything was synched, seriously. There we go. Command, erase all. Open file, Jor Jet. Notations on.”

The schematics they'd been working on in PE and English, complete with all the notes they'd scribbled, replaced the red cube.

“What would really be cool is if I could figure out how to make the projection touch-sensitive,” Tony said idly. “Like a touchscreen, only 3D. Then it would be like click and drag, but in the air. It would take a lot of the back-and-forth and drudgery out of working with designs like this.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, smiling. Tony was a talker, content if all Bruce contributed to the conversation was a word or two every few minutes. Which was fine by Bruce, since he hated long sentences that betrayed his stutter.

“Someday,” Tony said, shrugging. “Now, how about we concentrate on the casing shape for now and worry about alloys later?”

 

* * *

 

 

More than an hour later, casing shape and alloy tinkered with to both their satisfaction, Bruce was completely relaxed and honestly enjoying himself. He'd never been one to socialize, his interest in science setting him apart from most boys his age, but Tony was at his level. Above it, even. Strange as it might sound, there was a certain kind of relief in _not_ being the smartest one in the room anymore, to be able to stand back in awe of someone else's mind for once.

The peaceful calm of debating protecting extendables was shattered by the lab door banging open and an adult man calling Tony's name.

“I'm in here, Dad!” Tony called, sighing. “Sorry about this, Bruce.”

Bruce instinctively pulled back from the imposing man, most likely Tony's father, who strode into the room with all the arrogance of a king, trying to make himself small and invisible.

“Why aren't you answering your messages, Anthony?”

“On my phone, or-”

“ _House_ messages, Anthony. The very complex and expensive house messaging system you insisted I install so that you could do whatever you pleased all day long.”

“Oh.” Tony sounded... hurt. Not angry, but a bit like a kicked puppy, and his expression reflected that for a moment before he covered it with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Dad, I was working on something. I asked Jarvis to block anything that wasn't urgent or a live call from you.”

“Why are you blocking messages at all?” Bruce recognized the tone there, the one that implied the one being addressed was stupid beyond belief and needed to be told things slowly, in very small words. It wasn't a good tone to have directed at you. “It's not as though you'd be receiving one from anyone but myself.”

Tony flinched. Very faintly, almost too faint to see. Bruce's heart went out to him. “Dad, I-”

“Shut up, Anthony. I see you've been pretending you work for me again. What sort of idiocy are you attempting on my products now?”

“It's not idiocy, Dad,” Tony insisted. Again, more hurt than angry. “We managed to fix the propulsion stutter, and modified the-”

“We?” Then and only then did Howard Stark seem to realize there was anyone else in the room. His eyes fell on Bruce, who had to fight the urge to scamper behind Tony or under one of the tables. “ _We?_ You've been showing Stark Industries blueprints to your idiot classmates?”

 _Now_ Tony started to show signs of anger. “Bruce isn't an idiot, Dad! He's really smart, and he's standing right here!”

“Go to your room, Anthony. We'll discuss this later.”

“Dad-”

“ _Go to your room!_ ”

Tony, apparently caught by surprise, took an involuntary step back, eyes widening. “Yes, sir,” he said after a long moment, lowering his head and glancing at Bruce. Bruce thought he saw the faint shimmer of tears. “Sorry, Bruce. Someone'll take you home. See you tomorrow.”

Howard stood aside, glaring at Tony as he trudged out of the lab and toward the stairs. Once Tony was out of sight, he turned back to Bruce.

“As for you. I don't know who you're working for, but you can forget everything you've seen and heard. And you can forget about befriending Anthony. He may not have the brains to realize when he's being used, but I won't allow it. Get out of my house, and never come back.”

Bruce stood perfectly still and silent, frozen in terror. He was no stranger to the intimidating parent figure, the threat of bodily harm in every heavy syllable and breath. Old instinct kept his rooted, unable to move, until Howard grabbed him by the arm and all but _threw_ him into the hall. That broke the spell, allowing him to scramble to and up the stairs, every fiber of him screaming to get away before he got hurt.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Tony reached his bedroom, his anger had simmered to a low and dangerous boil. His father had no right to talk to or about Bruce like that, belittling him without even knowing him at all. It made Tony want to punch something.

By the time his father stormed in – without knocking, of course – it had risen almost to the point of exploding. But as usual, Howard got in the first word.

“Can't you recognize a plant when you meet one, Anthony?” Howard asked. “Surely you don't honestly believe that boy wanted to be your _friend_.”

Of course he had. And of course he couldn't say so. He stood there, mouth partway open, not sure what to say.

“Anthony, I'm sorry I said such harsh things, but I'm only trying to protect you. You know that.”

Of course he knew his father thought he was protecting him. He was just overprotective all the time.

“I think you need a bit of a vacation,” Howard said, taking Tony by the shoulders and sitting him on the edge of his bed. “Think of it as a reward for the work you did on the jet. I only took a glance, but I know how good you are with engineering problems. Why don't we go to Monte Carlo for a week, just the two of us?”

Tony sat, staring at his hands. He knew his father was going to Monte Carlo. He'd been planning it for months. He knew it was no reward and his father would have taken him regardless, against his will if he had to, but he wanted to believe otherwise. He wanted to believe so badly.

“No.”

That threw Howard for a loop. He pulled back, composed face comically slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”

“No. I don't want to go to Monte Carlo. I don't want a vacation. I don't want to miss a week of school.”

“What is it you love so much about that stupid school?” Howard demanded, throwing his hands in the air. “You're going.”

“I said no, Dad.”

“I don't recall giving you a choice. Do you have any idea what people would _say_ if I let you run wild for a week?”

“Then leave me with Odinson,” Tony suggested in a rush, the idea hitting him like a slap to the back of the head. “You're trying to form an exclusive contract with Asgard Security, but so are two other companies, right? So leave me with Odinson and his family. We both know neither one of us actually wants me in Monte Carlo, I'll just cramp your style, so let me stay with them, it'll read like a show of faith, like you're showing them how much you trust them with the most precious thing you've got.” And even if the last bit came out almost bitingly sarcastic, his message was getting through. “And the magazines will talk about what a good father you are making sure I stay home and learn instead of globetrotting like I'm good for nothing.”

Howard was actually thinking about it. Tony wished he believed in God, because praying might actually make sense here.

The silence stretched on and on, until Howard smiled slowly. “That's actually not a bad idea, Tony,” he said thoughtfully. “And Odin won't put up with your irresponsible bullshit the way I do, either. Do something useful for a change and pack yourself a bag.”

Tony could handle the insults just fine. A whole week away from his father. That sounded like Heaven to him, he didn't care how strict Odin was.

 

* * *

 

 

The driver who took Bruce home was polite and efficient, and seemed to understand that Bruce would really rather not be touched or spoken to. He was still shaken slightly when he stepped out of the town car and onto the sidewalk in front of his house, but he had it under control. He could manage.

Clint was in the front yard, standing with his back to the street, facing a set of rough wooden targets. Every target had arrows in it, and Bruce couldn't see any arrows that weren't in targets.

“You're home early,” Clint said without taking his eyes off the targets. “Stark get bored of you?”

“N-n-no.” The stutter, the stupid betraying stutter, was worse than normal, and that commanded Clint's full attention.

“You okay, big guy?” He asked, setting his bow down. “He didn't do anything to you, did he?”

Bruce shook his head mutely. He wasn't used to having a brother. He didn't know how to open up to another person yet. Even if their mothers were married, Bruce couldn't bring himself to consider them family, not yet.

“Okay, you don't have to talk to me,” Clint said. “I mean that. I won't push. Just let me know if I need to shoot Stark in the knee or something.”

“But th-then he... wouldn't be a... an adventurer anymore,” Bruce said quietly. It was a really bad joke, but it made Clint laugh, at least, which made it so he could smile. “I'll h-help you clean up. Is... um- w-what's Amelia making for d-dinner?”

Clint didn't give him a look, say he should call Amelia Mom. Bruce wasn't used to a brother, but he had no doubt he could get used to it very quickly.

They walked across the yard in... not companionable, but not uneasy silence and began to gather up Clint's arrows, then headed inside to wash up.

And if every free moment Bruce had that night was spent praying Tony's father wasn't hurting him, well...

Bruce had reason to fear that sort of thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally made a few decisions that led to slightly updated tags, for those who haven't noticed. I'm not used to tags on my stories. @.@

Bruce barely slept. It seemed every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tony's father, or his, or a horrific mix of the two. Well past midnight he still hadn't managed more than a fitful hour's sleep before a nightmare sent him sobbing back into reality and a waiting pair of arms.

The embrace was still unexpected; now that she'd remarried, Bruce's mother slept at the other end of the house with her wife. She didn't share a sagging double bed with Bruce, wasn't close enough to know when he broke down in silent tears and quiet terrified whimpers. Bruce had fully expected to have to deal with his own nightmares, without his mother's support, and he'd almost resented Amelia for stealing his mom away.

But there were arms waiting for him, pulling him close against the warmth of another human being.

“Easy, big guy,” Clint said softly, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Easy, it's okay. It was just a bad dream. You're okay.”

Clint was never what Bruce expected of him. They'd met less than a year ago, sitting uncomfortably across from each other in a diner booth, and Bruce had pegged Clint as someone with a short temper and a territorial streak. He wouldn't want strangers in his house, invading his space, and he'd probably take his displeasure out on Bruce. Bruce was taller, but not by much, and Clint was older. Stronger. Amelia boasted about his skill at archery, and Bruce silently added “arrow to the back” to his list of most likely ways to die.

Bruce had spent the wedding hiding in the car. Clint had come out and found him, and he'd expected to be thrashed – at least verbally – for abandoning his mother at such an important event. But Clint had only climbed in with him and told him it was okay to be afraid.

Moving in last month, part of him had still believed his initial impression of Clint, right up until his first nightmare.

Clint had come into his room, sat on his bed, held him while he cried. Never asked, never pressed for information or used what he saw against Bruce. He'd discovered that Clint wasn't territorial at all; he was protective as hell, and perfectly willing to accept Bruce as someone under his protection without a second thought.

He still wasn't used to it, but he didn't pull away or try to hide. He could trust Clint this far, at least.

After the tears dried up and Bruce stopped shaking, Clint sighed. “What did Stark do? Did he say something to you? I'm serious, I'll use him for target practice if he did.”

Bruce tried not to shudder at the promise of violence, even on his behalf. “N-no. Tony was... was w-wonderful. It was just... um, y'know... a bad dream. L-like you said.”

Clint sighed again, but didn't resist when Bruce pulled away.

“I'm fine. Th-thanks.”

“Well, that's what big brothers are for,” Clint said, smile bright in the light from the streetlamp outside. “Go on back to sleep. I'll be here if you need me again.”

Bruce nodded, burrowing back under the covers, and took several deep breaths to calm himself. Forget Howard Stark. Forget his faother. He let his mind fill with Tony and the 3D projector, willing himself back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony tended not to sleep well at the best of times. He had pills for that, but he never took them- they left him feeling muddled and slow all day, and neither his doctor nor his father listened when he tried to insist the dosage was too high. He took a pill out of the bottle each night and flushed it down the toilet before bed, then kept being handsome and brilliant on a few hours of sleep each night.

Rather than even trying to sleep, he spent the night sprawled across his bed fiddling with his phone. He was all packed for a week in another house, with a couple tablets and his laptop tucked in among his clothing. He seriously doubted he'd be allowed back into the house while his dad was gone, so he'd snuck down to the lab and transferred as many of his current projects as possible. Now he just had to wait for morning.

Tony sighed, glancing at his desk. Bruce's backpack was sitting on top of it, brand new and a soothing forest green. Tony knew his father, and he knew he'd owe Bruce an apology when he got to school. He only hoped they could still be science bros, if only in secret. Friends were not something Tony had many of, and he didn't want to lose this one.

He sighed again, rolling onto his stomach. Friends. Friendship was almost a foreign concept to him. His friends had always been picked for him growing up, and he hadn't actually gotten along with most of them. He'd been home-schooled until his mother died, then shipped off to boarding school after that until he was expelled for banging both the Headmaster's daughters. Then an awkward and uncomfortable year of middle school, and now two years of being the high school's town bicycle. None of those were ideal for making friends. Anyone he brought home was chased away, and he was never allowed to spend time at the houses of 'peasants'.

“Jarvis, music.”

“What would you like to hear?” Jarvis asked politely.

“Private library,” Tony said, closing his eyes. “Mom's lullaby. Loop it.”

The lights dimmed, as they were programmed to whenever he asked for this song, and his mother's voice from a decade ago washed over him, gently lulling him to uneasy sleep.

Sometimes it felt like she was the only real friend he'd ever had.

 

* * *

 

 

Howard was already gone by the time Jarvis woke Tony for school. There was no note or farewell message, just instructions for the staff. He would go to school like normal, then a driver would bring his things to pick him up and take him to Odinson's. One of the drivers, when Tony pushed him on the issue, admitted Howard had dropped some hints as to how none of them should ferry Tony to and from school while he was staying with Odinson, then added he did have the week off and a car not owned by Howard Stark. If Tony ever needed a ride.

Tony had honestly expected some sort of dick move like that; his father didn't like being rejected or manipulated, and he always got some sort of petty revenge. It could've been worse.

He climbed into his usual town car, holding Bruce's backpack in his lap. Hopefully Bruce would forgive him for last night.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce arrived at school for his second full day with no backpack, no homework, and only half his textbooks. He was halfway to his locker trying to decide what to do when he heard his name being called behind him, in a voice he recognized. Tony.

“Bruce, good, I caught you!” Tony exclaimed, skidding to a stop beside him and shoving his backpack in his hands. “Here, you left this at my place last night, are you okay?”

Bruce blinked, nodding. “Why... um, why wouldn't I? B-be okay?”

Tony sighed. “Look, whatever my dad said, he didn't mean it. He's just worried about me. I know you're not just trying to get company secrets, you'd be a terrible spy, you're too honest and cute for that, but he doesn't know you. People have done that before, hired kids to get on my good side so I'd give them stuff like blueprints and schematics, but I know you aren't like them, and I'm so so sorry you had to see that.”

Bruce stared at him for a moment, lost for words, then shook himself mentally, getting a firmer grip on his bag. “I-it's okay. I... kn-now how parents can... be. You don't h-have to apologize.”

Tony smiled, hugging him impulsively. “You're the best, Brucey, you know that? I think so, so it's definitely true.”

Bruce couldn't help but smile, albeit somewhat sadly. He knew why Tony felt the need to apologize for something his father had done. He used to be like that himself, a long time ago. “We'll, um, b-be late for homeroom soon.”

“Screw homeroom,” Tony said, letting his arms fall to his sides. “I'll see you there, I guess- gotta run to my locker real quick.”

Bruce nodded, and Tony turned and sprinted back the way he'd come. Bruce watched until he'd disappeared into the mill of students, then continued toward his own locker, not wanting to be late on his second day.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony never actually made it to homeroom, and by the end of first class, the rumor mill was buzzing. Everyone knew what he'd been doing, of course- the only questions were where, and who with.

There is no finer gossip machine than bored teenagers, Natasha had learned, even if the gossip it churned out warped beyond recognition in next to no time. Tony Stark didn't go to homeroom soon became Tony Stark had been caught having sex with a freshman in the PE storeroom. Tony's failure to appear for his first two classes brought the added embellishments of three more freshmen, a PE teacher, and police involvement.

Stark finally showed his face for PE, sinking onto the bleachers with a sigh. Natasha forwent her usual heavy involvement in the sport of the day to sit next to him.

“You don't appear to have been taken into protective custody by the FBI,” she noted.

Stark snorted, smiling. “No, no custody-taking here. I just got sidetracked.”

“By?”

“An arrow. You might be familiar with the wielder, I'm pretty sure he's sucked your- ow! Careful, dammit, that's where your pet bow monkey punched me!”

“Clint punched you?”

“Yeah,” Stark said, pulling up his shirt. “I've been in the nurse's office convincing the principal not to call the cops. I deserved it.”

Natasha hiked up one eyebrow. Stark mimicked it. “I suppose you're not going to tell me why?”

“Oh, I just made my science bro cry, apparently. That bastard packs a lot in those guns of his. I can't feel my spleen.”

Natasha nodded, patting his knee awkwardly. “I'll talk to Clint,” she promised, standing.

“Do me a favor and kidney punch him for me? Please? I'll buy you a ballet troupe.”

Natasha smiled slightly, shaking her head, and headed toward the nearest occupied basketball court. She'd better blow off some steam before she talked to Clint about why getting arrested for beating up younger boys would not help Bruce.

 

* * *

 

 

A different driver came to pick Tony up after school and take him back to the Odinson castle, where he was met by Loki and his big brother Thor. Because fuck it, Danes had really weird names.

Thor was big and blond and loud, the exact opposite of Loki in every way. He was also incredibly friendly and very happy to have Tony staying over.

“We have prepared a suite for you,” Thor explained, steering Tony into the house with a hand on his shoulder. “I pray you find it suitable.”

“I'm sure I will,” Tony said, glancing over his shoulder at Loki, who stalked along behind them like a pissed-off shadow. He was wearing black slacks and a dark green dress shirt with gold buttons, which looked damn sexy on him. “Thanks for the hospitality, guys.”

“It is our pleasure,” Thor assured him. His accent was more pronounced than Loki's, and his English was more obviously not his native language. “Here, this is to be your home for a time. Arrange it to your liking, and you shall be informed when we dine.”

Tony nodded, thanking Thor again politely and opening the door. Thor thankfully took that as his cue to leave, and Tony stepped inside in blessed silence.

The room was... ornate. Old-fashioned. It reminded him a bit of his dad's bedroom, full of fancy luxuries in dark woods and rich fabrics. Completely unlike his own far more modern room.

“Do you like it?”

Tony looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Loki standing right behind him. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Why, indeed,” Loki mused, kicking the door closed. “Were you perhaps hoping to pass the week in my bed?”

“I admit the thought crossed my mind,” Tony said, grinning. “That was one hell of a roll in the sack.”

Loki turned Tony around so they faced each other. “You are an odd one, aren't you? Do you even know how old I am?”

“Do you even know how much I don't care?” Tony retorted, grinning wider. “Trust me, I've had older. Not sexier, though.”

“Slut.”

The tone, more than the word itself, caught Tony by surprise. He'd been called plenty of names over the years, but never like that. Loki didn't sound mad or disgusted or even pitying. Hell, he sounded... _impressed_.

“We have time before dinner,” Tony said quietly, licking his lips. Loki hadn't kissed him last time, so he resisted the urge to kiss him now. Boundaries and all that shit.

“Indeed,” Loki said, running a hand through Tony's hair. “But if I indulge you now, we'll both miss dinner entirely.” He stepped back, and Tony throttled down a soft whine of protest. “Settle yourself. After dinner, come to my room.”

Loki was gone, the door shut again, before Tony's brain processed that the 'if you can find it' he'd expected had never come. He took a deep breath, exhaling unsteadily.

“Wow.”


	5. Chapter 5

Loki did not eat dinner in the dining room with his brother and their guest. He ate in his rooms, in blessed solitude; if he had sat down with them, he would not have been able to eat at all. Thor made his gut twist unpleasantly whenever they were together, and Tony...

Well.

Loki was by no means an innocent. He was six years Tony's senior, with any number of conquests to his name. Men and women both, more than he cared to count, and none gave him half the satisfaction Tony did. Though Tony would be of age in Denmark, Loki knew that this country held him as a child for two more years, and the sheer experience the boy had in light of that was remarkable. Intriguing, as well.

There was a soft knock on the door, diffident and controlled, and Loki sighed. Just what he needed- a servant underfoot. “Enter!”

The door opened just enough for one slender body to slip inside. Not a servant, but Tony, looking very much his age, as he had looked with his suit in disarray and his eyes unfocused with pleasure.

“Hey,” Tony said, closing the door and leaning against it. “So, did you know that dinner with your family is _really_ fucking awkward? Can I eat with you from now on?”

Loki smiled, and it was only partly forced. There was no love lost between himself and either of his parents, and the brotherly love was firmly one-sided on Thor's part. He would just as soon be rid of all three. “Perhaps,” he said at length. “If you give me reason to invite you.”

He'd meant it as a jest, and though Tony laughed, Loki saw the spark in his eyes dim, just enough to be noticeable.

“Come here,” Loki said abruptly. What Tony thought or felt was irrelevant; there was nothing important here aside from pure physical compatibility.

Tony crossed the lush pile of emerald green carpet in bare feet. Had he arrived without shoes? Loki hadn't noticed. He reached Loki and stood, a mere inch from pressing flush against him, smiling with practiced and easy seduction. He looked so very out of place in Loki's sitting room, with its wrought iron furnishing and darkly elegant décor, like a displaced time traveler in his faded denim jeans and well-worn tee shirt.

No, not a time traveler. More like a boy plucked unwittingly from his time and transported to the bower of a lecherous wizard. The thought made Loki smile slightly, and Tony's smile brightened in kind.

“What do you want, Tony?”

“You.”

“You shall have me in time,” Loki promised. “But surely you have tastes of your own- what are they?”

“Whatever you want them to be,” Tony answered immediately, closing that tiny gap between them, face turned up at Loki and serene. Loki fought to control his exasperation at such a non-answer, but a slight frown made it past his guard, and Tony immediately stepped back, further than he'd been before. “Sorry,”

Loki regarded him for a long moment, then took his hand. It was warm and steady, not a hand which matched the spark of fear in Tony's eyes.

A strange boy, indeed.

Loki turned, still holding Tony's hand, and led him to the bedroom. Black gave way to varying shades of green and shining silver, far less oppressive than the sitting room. When he'd first bedded Tony, he'd done so on the sitting room floor, neither of them entirely willing to wait past the door to his suite. He would take his time tonight, however.

“Damn,” Tony whispered appreciatively behind him. “I like this room. This room is way better than mine. Wanna switch?”

“Hush,” Loki ordered, turning so he faced Tony again. His smile was still sultry, his hand still steady. His eyes burned with lust and something more. “Now, you will tell me what limits you have. Believe me, you cannot play by mine.”

“I bet I can,” Tony disagreed. “My limits are whatever yours are, handsome.”

Oh, he was _far_ too young to be so versed in the art of seduction.

“I doubt that greatly,” Loki said, letting go of Tony's hand. “But we'll see.” He stepped back, holding up a hand when Tony made to follow him. “Strip.”

Tony wasted no time in obeying, seeming not to care that the loss of his clothing left exposed a network of fresh bruises, some fairly nasty even by Loki's standards.

“You're injured-”

“I'm fine.” Tony's answer was too quick, too assured. “If they bother you, we can turn off the lights.”

Loki shook his head, debating silently with himself. Tony was injured, underage, perhaps not as willing as he appeared, and Loki was loathe to force him, however unwittingly. But then Tony was on his knees at Loki's feet, unfastening his slacks with his _teeth_ , and Loki decided the unwillingness must be imagined.

“Stop.”

Tony paused, biting his lip in the single most arousing show of uncertainty Loki had ever seen.

“You've chosen to play this by my limits,” Loki reminded him. “And I will not exceed them, but surely you must expect me to approach them.”

Tony nodded, bewildered but apparently willing to play. For now.

Loki smiled, patting his head reassuringly. “Close your eyes, boy.”

Tony closed his eyes immediately, to all appearances completely at ease. Loki sank to one knee, touching gentle fingertips to the edge of a bruise on his arm. Tony's only reaction was a faint shiver. He stayed completely still as Loki traced the pattern of bruising, mapping out the worst of them, making a mental note of where was safe to touch and where wasn't. A deliberate beating, by hands too small to belong to Howard Stark. Another lover, perhaps? He wasn't foolish enough to think Tony would keep himself to only one lover, even for a few days.

Loki took his hand away, and Tony shifted to follow it. There was need there, more than just a need for sex. More and more interesting.

“Stand,” Loki instructed, moving to his feet again. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Tony stood, without aid of eyes or hands, in one fluid motion marred only slightly by the pain his bruises must be causing. Loki took his hand, tugging lightly, and led him one step at a time to the bed.

“Let us see just how close to my limits you can come.”

 

* * *

 

 

One of the things Tony judged a lover by was exactly how exhausted he was when they finished for the night.

By the time Loki finally let him rest, Tony wasn't entirely sure how he was still conscious.

He was still blindfolded. With his own tie, even; Loki had apparently decided to keep it as a souvenir. And his tastes ran in the direction of bondage, something Tony had never had much of a chance to explore. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, but he didn't feel any active dislike, at least. He could deal.

He lied on his side, head pillowed on Loki's stomach, Loki petting him absently, accompanied by the sound of rustling paper. Loki was reading a book. Tony could barely move, and Loki was reading a book, the smug suave fucker.

For some strange reason, it reminded Tony of being 13 again, limp and drenched in sweat with his head pillowed on Melissa's amazing tits while she ran her fingers through his hair and told him he was such a fast learner, and she loved him. It had been a lie, of course, but he still remembered it vividly.

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“How'd I do?”

Loki hadn't claimed to love him. Loki hadn't even kissed him, not on the mouth. He'd treated Tony like a dog, like an animal incapable of thought beyond his most basic instincts. And yet...

Loki chuckled, and leaned down to croon softly in his ear: “You did just fine.”

When Loki whispered to him like that, offered him sincere praise, Tony couldn't help but remember the glowing warmth he'd felt whenever Melissa told him she loved him.

Tony stayed limp as Loki wrapped him in something warm, pulling him close. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed around another person, and he never imagined he'd be able to do it while being tied up.

“Go to sleep, Anthony,” Loki instructed. Fingers in his hair once more, nails ghosting over his scalp and the back of his neck. “You'll need your rest to please me again tomorrow.”

Again. Indirect, but it still meant Loki was pleased, pleased enough to want him a third time, and Tony let himself drift off to sleep at last.

 

* * *

 

 

Loki was gone when Tony woke up.

He'd been untied in his sleep, tucked into the bed properly, and there was a fresh set of clothing sitting on the nightstand, but Loki was nowhere to be seen.

Tony sighed and sat up slowly, stretching as much as he dared. Between last night's epic sex and yesterday's beating, he was lucky he could move at all. He'd definitely need painkillers to get through today.

Like a gift from the gods, a small bottle of pills and a glass of water sat next to his clothing. Tony read the instructions carefully, then took twice the recommended dosage before he even tried standing.

Standing went better than expected, so he got dressed next, combing a hand through his hair. He should probably shower, but he didn't know if he had time before school. Maybe he could get away with gelling it...

Properly dressed, Tony made his way across Loki's bedroom to the sitting room, then out into the hallway, trying to remember the way back to his room. His backpack was probably still in there.

The hallway proved to be dimly lit, and there was no sign of sunrise when he looked out the nearest window, so he hadn't been asleep for very long. Maybe he had time to shower, after all.

He wandered the halls for several minutes before he ran into someone who was sadly not Loki, but he put on his best smile and hid his disappointment.

“You are about early, young Anthony,” Frigga said, tilting her head to the side. She looked very Mother-goddess with that ass-length blonde hair and a nightgown about four inches too long to be floor-length. “Has your sleep been troubled?”

“I don't sleep much, ma'am,” Tony told her. “And I kind of got lost trying to find my room again. You have a lovely palace, but you should probably hand out maps.”

He must be more tired than he thought, letting his mouth run away with him like that. To his immense relief, though, Frigga only laughed.

“Indeed,” she said agreeably, offering him her hand. “I shall guide you to your borrowed bed, else you may be lost in wandering until morning.”

Tony took her hand, almost hyper-aware of the faint rope burns on his wrist. Dear God, he hoped there wasn't enough light for her to see that. “Thank you, ma'am.”

Frigga smiled down at him, and he found himself wondering idly what she was like in bed. She seemed motherly as fuck, but then she was married to the one-eyed leader of a security firm, so she could be an absolute beast in the sack. It was hard to tell sometimes.

They walked in silence until they reached a hallway Tony recognized. Frigga walked him right up to the door before letting go of his hand, opening the door for him.

“Young Anthony,” she said as he stepped inside. He turned, and she was still smiling. “Do not hope for lasting affection from Loki. He will forget you when you lose his interest- it would be best for all if you do not forget that. Sleep well.”

She turned and walked off, in no hurry, and Tony just kind of stared after her, not sure what the hell to do with _that_.

After a minute he closed the door maybe a bit harder than necessary and stomped to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as he could stand before stripping off his clothes and stepping under the pounding spray.

He wasn't looking for anything lasting. He wasn't expecting an actual relationship. He stopped sleeping with anyone who even hinted at wanting anything beyond sex. Why would he expect Loki to be any different? Hell, Loki was a fucking adult, old enough to have been married for years and have a kid almost old enough to start school. No way was Tony deluding himself into thinking there was anything special going on here.

He didn't realize just how aggressively he was washing himself until his nails, scraping across his arm, drew blood. He threw down the bar of soap he was holding – literally threw it against the wall as hard as he could – and rinsed himself hastily, smacking the controls to turn off the shower. He dried himself off and dressed with about as much force, ripping the hem of his shirt and not even caring, then went back to his luggage, digging out the tech he'd brought.

He wasn't going to be sleeping any more tonight, so he might as well do something useful with his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. There was totally supposed to be a sex scene in here, a sex scene with lots of plot relevance in it. Apparently, in the two years I took off from writing fanfics, I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE SEX SCENES.
> 
> Apologies for the lack. Once I relearn riding that particular bike, I'll make it up to you guys.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the sun came up, Tony had worked himself into a state of false serenity. His mind was still roiling and angry, but the jerkiness was gone from his movements, and he could smile easily when he was summoned for breakfast with the family.

That was something he wasn't used to- family meals. He and his father never ate together unless they had company that Tony needed to be shown off for. Even when his mother had been alive, they'd always been going to parties and events and leaving Tony to eat with his nanny.

Frankly, he didn't think he'd missed very much.

Frigga had taken the time to do her hair up in a fancy braid arrangement and paint her face. She sat to Odin's left and picked absently at a stack of pancakes, casting forlorn glances across the table to the mountain of bacon heaped on top of the steak Thor was apparently eating for breakfast. Odin, beard and hair freshly washed, was glowering a very impressive one-eyed glower at the empty seat next to Thor. No one was talking. They could all just have eaten in their rooms and saved themselves the trip.

Tony sat at the only other place with dishes, and a servant appeared as if from thin air, setting down a plate identical to Thor's. The steak was a bit smaller and there was less bacon, but otherwise it was the same. No veggies, no starch, not even an egg. All meat.

Since he was sitting only one seat away from her, Tony leaned toward Frigga and whispered, “Trade you some bacon for a pancake.”

Frigga glanced over at him, then at Odin, who was to all appearances completely unaware Tony existed, then made a great show of surreptitiously wrapping one of her pancakes in a napkin and passing it to him below the table. He gave her half his bacon the same way, and caught Thor grinning at them. He grinned right back.

Odin, seemingly unwilling to let there be merriment at his breakfast table, turned and pinned his glare on Tony. Tony's grin vanished like it was never there, and he all but snapped to attention.

“Morning, boy,” Odin said after a long moment.

“Good morning, sir,” Tony said, wondering if he was about to be challenged for soiling Loki's honor or something equally ridiculous and terrifying.

Odin frowned a Frown of Severe Disapproval at him. “No need for formalities, boy. You are our guest.”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Odinson. Sorry.”

Frigga patted Odin's hand in a very practiced 'dear, you're scaring him' way, and the Frown became one of Mild Annoyance and Maybe Confusion.

“So- breakfast looks great, really, but it's a bit heavy for me, and I need to get to school,” Tony said, standing. “Education's important and stuff. I'll just- I'm gonna call my driver, it's okay if he picks me up, right?”

“Can you not drive yourself?” Thor asked, and dammit he even _sounded_ chipper.

“No, I don't have a license. Dad said I don't need one yet, it'd just put one of the drivers out of work.”

Thor looked at him like he was speaking an alien language.

“It's no big deal, I just need to call my driver. I checked with him yesterday, and he's cool with picking me up here if he needs to. If that's cool with you guys.”

Odin gave a very grave nod, and Tony did his best not to look like he was fleeing when he fled the dining room.

 

* * *

 

 

“Saw your new sugar daddy, Stark- isn't he a little old for you?”

“Clint!” Natasha snapped, elbowing Clint sharply in the stomach.

“Ow! 'Tash, he knows I'm kidding. It's our game. It's a thing we do. Right, Stark?”

Tony couldn't help but smile, closing his locker. “Yeah; it's how he tries to hide his deep feelings for me.” Clint pulled a comical face, and Tony laughed. “It's okay, Natasha, you don't have to kill him. How's Bruce?”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Natasha nudged Clint sharply.

“So, Bruce royally reamed my ass,” Clint confessed, shifting his weight slightly. Pants that tight on someone who wouldn't screw him should be illegal. “Said it wasn't your fault and if I pull another stunt like that, he's never speaking to me again. I gotta tell you, he might not look like much, but he can be scary when he wants.”

“Of course he can,” Tony said. “He's a science bro. Us science bros can be fucking terrifying.”

“Yeah, so,” Clint said, shifting his weight again. Tony didn't bother trying not to stare. “That's about all we needed to say, I was an ass and I promise not to beat you up anymore. We good?”

“Why wouldn't we be?” Tony asked, cocking his head to one side. “You're not the first over-protective big brother to kick my ass, and you won't be the last. And as long as you refuse to acknowledge your unequaled passion for me, you punching me is the only physical contact we'll have.”

“Tony.”

“Shutting up and going to class,” Tony said automatically. He would've saluted, too – he even knew how to do it right – except his arms were full of books he didn't want to accidentally drop on his foot. No one argued with Natasha when she used that voice. “See you in PE.”

Natasha nodded, then grabbed Clint and dragged him off down the hall toward wherever they went to make out before classes started.

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce sat on the bleachers, very grateful he was exempt from PE. Today's game was dodgeball, and he didn't want to think about what he could do in a situation like that.

The bench next to him was empty. He'd seen Tony during homeroom, so he knew he wasn't absent, but he had yet to come into the gym. It was possible he was skipping, or had been called to the office, or something else completely innocuous. Bruce couldn't help fidgeting slightly, glancing around for Natasha. She had this class, too, right?

Natasha was two courts over. Her team was winning, of course. Natasha's team always won, no matter what sport she was playing. Bruce skirted around the game closest to the bleachers, keeping an eye out. He knew he looked like prime bullying material, and the last thing he wanted was to have an incident so soon after transferring here.

Or to have one ever, for that matter.

Natasha sidestepped two balls, catching one and sending it back at the other team. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, shifting nervously at the way some of the other students were eying him. “H-have you seen Tony?”

“Not since before homeroom,” she said, tagging two people out with one ball. “Have you checked the locker room? He hides there sometimes when he's banned from the computer labs.”

Someday, she and Clint were going to have to explain how they knew so much about someone they claimed not to like.

“Thanks,” he said with a small smile, walking backward until he was far enough away that no one could hit him and claim it was an accident.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to leave the gym even if he wasn't required to participate in class, so he made sure none of the PE teachers were looking before he slipped out into the back hall.

The hall ran the length of the gym, with storage rooms and locker rooms on the other side. Bruce started toward the boys' locker room, flatly refusing to even entertain the thought Tony would hide in the girls' locker room instead. He probably wasn't even there, maybe he was in the computer lab, or the office, or had just decided to skip the rest of his classes and gone home. Bruce was going to feel like such an idiot, going looking for someone who probably didn't even want-

“Dammit, Aldrich- when a lady says no, she means no!”

Bruce stopped just short of the door to a storage room, which stood open a couple inches. The lights were off inside, but that had definitely been Tony's voice, right?

“Tease,” a voice Bruce didn't know answered with a chuckle. “There's no need to play hard-to-get.”

“I'm not playing hard-to-get,” Tony snapped. “I'm not in the mood, so get your hands off my- _ah_!”

Bruce, heart pounding, shifted closer to the door. That... hadn't sounded like a cry of pain.

“You're always in the mood,” the stranger insisted. “And if you don't quiet down, you'll get us both in trouble.”

“L-like I fucking care,” Tony muttered. “No! Bad touch, Aldrich, knock it the fuck off!”

The sickeningly familiar crack of flesh on flesh, openhanded blow to the face, cry of pain. Bruce didn't think, just shoved the door open wider, stepped into the storage room, and froze.

Tony, and a student Bruce didn't know. Tony backed against a set of shelves, braced against them like he'd been trying to climb them. Tony with his shirt pulled up, exposing his stomach. Tony's slacks undone, about half a centimeter from sliding off his hips entirely.

The stranger was much bigger than Bruce, with more obvious muscle mass. He held himself confidently, and he looked annoyed at the interruption.

Bruce didn't give a flying fuck.

A familiar feeling of rage and adrenaline washed over him. His rational mind shut down. Nothing existed but him and the bastard he was going to kill for trying to hurt Tony.

 

* * *

 

 

One life lesson that Tony somehow kept forgetting was _don't go into dark places with Aldrich Killian_. No matter what bullshit excuse he used, it was invariably for the sole purpose of sex. And it wasn't that Aldrich was _bad_ at sex, he was actually pretty damn good for a supposedly-straight guy, but he had a bad habit of not asking first, and sometimes Tony just wasn't in the mood.

Like today. He was still pissed about last night, still buzzing from the tension at breakfast, still sore from getting his ass kicked and Loki, and he'd been looking forward to spending PE on the bleachers with Bruce. But no, he had to be a forgetful little shit and agree to check out what Aldrich had found in the storage room real quick.

As usual, Aldrich acted like every time Tony said no or tried to get away, he was just being coy. Normally Tony would just give up and let him do whatever the hell he wanted, but he was _really_ not in the mood today.

“I'm not playing hard-to-get,” Tony snapped, pressing harder against the shelf digging into his back in an attempt to escape Aldrich's wandering hands. “I'm not in the mood, so get your hands off my- _ah_!”

Fuck Aldrich. Fuck him, fuck his very talented hands, fuck this whole stupid situation, and fuck how the asshole knew exactly how much nail to sink into his arm to make Tony moan.

“You're always in the mood,” Aldrich taunted him, other hand caressing his stomach in a way he knew would make Tony shudder. “And if you don't quiet down, you'll get us both in trouble.”

“L-like I fucking care,” Tony muttered, trying to keep up his defiant act. “No! Bad touch, Aldrich, knock it the fuck off!”

Aldrich growled softly, apparently fed up, and yanked his hand out of Tony's boxers. For a second Tony thought he'd finally got the message, but no- he just smacked Tony hard across the face.

Neither of them expected the door to go flying open, drowning out Tony's surprised cry, and Tony definitely didn't expect to see Bruce there.

Tony froze, not sure what to do. He wasn't ashamed of being easy, and he was pretty sure Bruce had at least heard rumors already, but somehow the fact he was obviously about half a minute from being fucked and Bruce was right there staring at him made him want to find a place to hide.

“Bru-”

That was as far as he got before Bruce moved, faster than Tony had thought he could. He just bulled right the fuck into Aldrich, yanking him off Tony and throwing him into a stack of tumbling mats. He growled something inarticulate, maybe even just straight-up growled with no communication attempt at all, and jumped on him.

Vaguely, Tony noted that Aldrich was about eight inches taller, fifty pounds heavier, and two years older than Bruce. In a showdown of pure strength, Bruce should be losing badly, not beating the ever-loving shit out of a much bigger senior.

Aldrich tried to fight back. Tried being the operative word. Bruce pounded him down and kept him there with apparently nothing but pure rage, not even reacting to the blows Aldrich managed to land on him. Tony watched in morbid fascination, not sure what to do.

“Um... Bruce?”

Bruce didn't seem to hear him at all, still completely focused on pounding Aldrich into the mats. And not in a good way. Tony stepped away from the shelves, swallowing hard.

“Bruce?”

“ _Bruce.”_

That voice caught Bruce's attention, and he almost absently punched Aldrich one last time before turning toward the door where Natasha was standing with her arms crossed, looking badass in her loose black shorts and oversized gray PE shirt.

“Fight's over,” Natasha said, using her Voice of Commanding(plus five fortitude to allies). “Calm down.”

Bruce stared at her, wide-eyed, for what felt like an eternity. Then he shuddered, chest heaving, and keeled over in a dead faint. Tony only barely managed to catch him, falling on his ass with a heartfelt curse.

“What the fuck just happened here?”

“He had an episode,” Natasha said, striding over and giving Aldrich a rough exam before yanking him up and shoving him away. “He does that from time to time, when he's confronted with a trigger. He'll be fine in an hour or so. Make yourself decent.”

Tony glanced down, and didn't even have the grace to blush. His pants were halfway to his knees now, and his shirt was still askew. He definitely looked like a freshly-used whore.

“I didn't want to,” he found himself blurting. “Asshole just wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and reached around Bruce, fixing Tony's clothing for him. “We need to take him to the nurse.”

Tony nodded. Not a surprise she didn't believe him. He should've just let Aldrich get his rocks off and gotten the whole thing over with. “I'll carry him.”

Natasha nodded, helping him stand, then stalked behind him the whole way to the nurse. Tony wasn't sure if she was guarding him, Bruce, or them both.

People made no fucking sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who came for the non-con tag, don't worry- this isn't the last time it'll pop up.


	7. Chapter 7

The nurse's office was empty of anyone but the nurse himself, which was a bit of a relief. Natasha didn't mind Mr. Rogers for the most part, and she knew he was aware of Bruce's condition, which was helpful.

“He had an episode,” she said without having to be asked. “Private room?”

“Take the corner one,” Mr. Rogers said, standing. “Should I call a parent?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. We'll have to see how he is when he wakes up. Come on, Tony.”

She led Tony to the last of the doors lining one wall, which led to a small windowless room containing a cot, two chairs, and a stack of file boxes in one corner. She helped Tony get Bruce situated comfortably on the cot, then shoved him down in one of the chairs and instructed him to stay before going back to Mr. Rogers.

“I need to notify our teachers- Tony and I will be staying with him.”

He didn't argue. She liked that in an adult. “Let me know if you need anything. I'll be here.”

Natasha nodded, starting for the hall, then paused and glanced over her shoulder. “If a senior named Aldrich Killian comes in here, put him in the room next to Bruce. He and I need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had been working as a nurse at this school for almost seven years now, and if he'd learned one thing in that time it was that _no one_ here was normal. The teachers were all insane, the kids even more so, and he'd once taken a tally and discovered that the number of injuries he treated doubled the week of the full moon. And this latest batch of kids...

Well, he knew what Natasha meant by 'talk', and he'd just as soon not set someone up for a beating. Deserved or otherwise, because he knew enough about her talks to know they tended to be deserved.

He made a mental note to hide Aldrich Killian from Natasha and stepped up to the far resting room, knocking softly on the door frame.

“Do you need anything, Tony?” he asked.

Tony shook his head, hands fidgeting like a couple of ferrets in his lap. “I'm fine,” he said. “What's wrong with him? Why'd he flip out like that? Tell me it's not PTSD or something, tell me I didn't trigger a PTSD attack, I'll feel like a total ass and have to drown myself or something.”

Steve sighed. He'd rarely had a reason to interact with Tony Stark outside of his yearly physical, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle the boy. How to read him. “Trust me, you didn't trigger anything,” he said at length, sinking into the empty chair next to Tony. “Bruce has very specific triggers, and you aren't the kind of person to provide them. I know that much.”

“No, this is totally my fault,” Tony disagreed. “Because he lost his shit when he saw me, so there you go.” He gestured widely, and Steve studied the movement out of habit. Stiff, especially on the right side.

“Tony-”

“No, don't try and make me feel better, Doc, it won't work.”

“Tony, your wrist is bruised.”

Tony froze, eyes flicking to the inch or so of arm visible above the hem of his long sleeves, and he shivered. “Oh. That- that's nothing, just someone got a little enthusiastic with me, nothing worth worrying about. I got my ass kicked the other day, remember that? Cops and everything. What's one more bruise?” He continued babbling, pulling his hands into his sleeves and burying them in his lap. “Just ignore it, Doc, seriously.”

“I'm a nurse, Tony- it's my job to not ignore injuries,” Steve pointed out, trying to lift Tony's hand. “I'm not asking you to tell me how you got it, I just want to take a look at it.” Tony stubbornly shifted so his hands were pinned under his thighs, shaking his head, and Steve gave up for now. “Okay, fair enough. I know when to call it quits. Stay with Bruce, please- he's going to be disoriented when he wakes up. I'll be at my desk if you need me.”

Tony nodded, refocusing on Bruce. Steve left, closing the door most of the way to give them some privacy. He was glad Bruce had made a friend so quickly- after everything that poor boy had been through, he deserved a bit of kindness.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony managed to sit still for once in his life, staring blankly at the wall above Bruce's head. No matter what the nurse said, this was his fault. Even if it had only been the situation that flipped Bruce out, he wouldn't have walked in on them if Tony hadn't been acting like such a wuss.

He spent about twenty minutes just sitting and staring before Natasha finally came back, sitting silently in the chair next to him, not even making the stupid thing squeak.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Tony shrugged. “Been better, been worse. You?”

“I'm fine. There's no reason for me to not be.”

Tony nodded, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Natasha?” She made a noise he assumed meant she was listening. “Listen, about... back there. I'm really serious, I wasn't- I didn't ditch Bruce to go screw in the storage room, I swear.”

She gave him a look that spoke of disbelief.

“I'm serious!” Tony insisted. “He's my science bro, I'd never- I really didn't- I-”

“I know, Tony.”

“What.” Tony's surprise was so absolute he couldn't even phrase it as a question. “No. No, you don't. You- I saw the look you gave me, I'm not blind, I know my rep better than you do, trust me, and you didn't, didn't believe me. You thought I was lying, and I wasn't, I-”

“You're going to wake Bruce,” Natasha said mildly, and Tony's eyes jerked guiltily to Bruce, then down to the floor. “And I did believe you, Tony. I know you would rather spend time with Bruce than have sex, no matter what anyone says.”

“Then, why'd you... you know... look at me like that?”

“Because you never have to justify yourself to me, Tony.”

“I don't?”

Natasha sighed, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. “I sometimes think you have never actually _wanted_ to have sex in your life.”

“What? Okay, now I know you're insane.” Tony huffed indignantly, sitting up straighter. “Seriously, I'm the biggest slut in America. Possibly on Earth. I like sex more than food. Almost as much as science. This is a known fact. I like sex so much that I started having it when I was thirteen.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “I've never once heard of you seeking out someone for sex,” Natasha said. “Only very rarely do you turn down someone who comes to you, but as far as I know, you've never made the first move. For someone who's supposed to love sex, that's odd.”

“Don't psychobabble bullshit me, Natasha,” Tony snapped, smacking her hand off him. She let him, he knew she let him because he'd have more luck stopping the tides than moving Natasha when she didn't feel like moving. “I know what I am, and I don't need you to coddle me and try and make me feel better about myself. I'm absolutely fucking fine.”

He stood abruptly, shoving the chair back with the scrape of metal legs on dirty tile floor, and stomped out. He didn't need to deal with this shit. He _couldn't_ deal with it, not right now. He just couldn't.

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. “That could have gone better.”

“Not really,” Bruce replied from the bed. “You can't just... bring things up. That sort of thing. It... it doesn't work like that.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. It's... you get yourself to a certain place. Mentally. Where you're, um... comfortable. Where it's okay, because it doesn't, you know. Bother you. You can ignore it. And it- someone comes along and says that's not right, that it – you – it's not healthy. A-and that place you got yourself to i-isn't _safe_ anymore. Your whole world, it just... if you adm-mit that they're right and you've been wrong? The whole time? Everything... breaks.”

Natasha nodded; she could understand that. Bruce never really talked about his father and the things he'd done to him, but Natasha knew what having lived through it had done. She knew Bruce had issues, that a lot of his _issues_ had issues, so if anyone would know about this, he would.

“How do I fix it?” She'd learned a long time ago not to bother with excuses or apologies. As long as she could mend what she broke, neither of those were needed.

“Don't try,” Bruce said, sitting up slowly. “Just... give him space. Did... I want to ask if I hurt anyone, but I'm pretty sure I know that answer. How badly?”

Natasha shrugged. “Less than he deserved,” she said, relaxing. She trusted Bruce's judgment as far as Tony was concerned. “He'll have some impressive bruises, but not even a sprained joint. He's fine.”

Bruce swung his legs over the side of the cot, standing and stretching carefully to check himself for injuries. “I guess I should head back to class. Um... how long has it been?”

“You missed the rest of PE and most of your next class. Might as well stay here until the bell rings.”

“Did you-”

“The nurse has your things.” Natasha stood, dusting off her pants. “I'll see you after school. Don't be afraid to call Amelia if you want to go home early- you know she won't mind.” Bruce nodded, but Natasha could tell he probably wouldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. Bruce hated to be a burden, even when no one else saw him as one.

She thought about hugging him, but Bruce didn't really like being touched after an episode, so she kept her hands to herself and stepped out to inform Mr. Rogers that Bruce was up. Then she left the nurse's office, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Biology in favor of hunting down Killian and finishing what Bruce had started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. I rewrote it about eighty times and I still hate it. Meh. *burrows under blankies*
> 
> Comments and kudos are more than welcomed, guys.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the wait. I have the attention span of a gnat and the self-control of a cat with a laser pointer, and got completely sidetracked.

Tony skipped the rest of school. He couldn't deal with Natasha, couldn't face Bruce, and didn't want to chance running into Aldrich again, so he just called up the driver and went out to the parking lot to wait.

When the driver showed up, Tony yanked the door open and climbed into the back seat, curling up around his bag without a word. He didn't know where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do, he just knew he didn't want to be _here_. The driver seemed to sense that somehow and pulled away from the school as soon as he was settled.

They drove in silence for five or ten minutes before the driver glanced in the rear view mirror at Tony. “Hungry?” he asked, smiling when Tony just shrugged. “Yeah, kinda figured. Mr. Stark let you eat fast food?”

“Fast food is poison,” Tony said with another shrug. “Only hobos and druggies eat it.”

The driver just grinned, pulling into the parking lot of some place Tony had never heard of. Probably everyone else his age ate here all the time, but one of the downsides to never going anywhere without a driver on his dad's payroll was that he didn't get to do things Howard disapproved of.

“What your dad won't know can't hurt him,” the driver said, turning into the drive-thru line. “You want a burger or chicken?”

“Burger,” Tony said immediately, sitting up a bit straighter. He'd had gourmet burgers at fancy cook-outs where everyone doing the actual cooking was paid, but never one of the supposed abominations served to the masses. “I don't- I left my wallet this morning. I don't have-”

“It's okay, kid- I can afford a burger or two. Ever had soda?”

Tony snorted, smiling in spite of himself. “They have machines at school, you know. I like root beer.”

“Got it.” They pulled up to the oversized menu board, and the speaker next to the car squealed with feedback. “Hey, let me get two onion burger meals, large, one with cherry Pepsi and one with root beer.”

A tinny voice read back the order and told them the total before instructing them to pull up to the first window.

“Wow,” Tony remarked, shifting slightly in his seat. “I'll be honest, I've had ice creams that cost more than that. Are you sure they got it right?”

“Kid,” the driver said, in a voice that made it clear he was being affectionate and not insulting, “you've had ice cream with actual flecks of real gold in it, so your desserts are no way to judge what normal people pay for their food.”

Tony laughed out loud, bouncing a bit when they were told to pull up and collect their food, eager to defy Howard even if he would never dare actually tell him about it. And seriously, how did eating greasy food with a driver make him feel better? The world made absolutely no sense once again, but this time Tony didn't care.

* * *

Loki's days were never what one could consider full, or even particularly productive. Since leaving Denmark, his activities were confined mainly to reading and wandering the house making a game of avoiding everyone. He was forbidden from leaving the grounds, and it had been heavily implied that leaving the house itself might be unwise, leaving him with very little he could conceivably do to alleviate his boredom.

He had enjoyed reading as a child, though mostly because it was one of the few things he took to better than Thor, and had recently found refuge in books once more. He sat in the window of an empty guest room with a volume in his lap, reading the sickeningly sweet tale of a girl and the ordinary trials of her bland life and wondering if it would be worth the walk to the library to get something else.

His chosen window gave him an excellent view of the driveway and the front grounds, and he knew neither Thor nor Odin were home, but Frigga left the house almost as infrequently as Loki, and he did not want to see her.

Loki sighed, leaning against the cool window glass and staring at nothing in particular. Was this truly what his life was now? Jailed in his own supposed home, hiding from the woman who raised him, forcing himself into total isolation?

Well, perhaps not _total_. Not since meeting Tony, at least. Tony didn't ask idiotic questions, seemed to have absolutely no expectations to which Loki would be held. It hurt nothing that he was beautiful as well, and Loki had never had a lover so very eager to please. If nothing else, Tony's company for the remainder of the week made a welcome break from monotony.

Movement on the drive pulled Loki out of his thoughts, and he watched Tony's car wind its way toward the house. Loki smiled, closing the book and setting it aside as he stood. Yes, Tony presented a pleasant way to pass the time, and he might enjoy being met at the door.

Loki made his way quickly to the staircase the servants used and down to the ground floor, reaching the foyer just as Tony slipped inside.

“Welcome back, Tony.”

Tony jumped, turning so quickly he almost lost his balance. “Oh, hey, Loki. You kinda scared the shit out of me there- think you can not do that in the future?”

Loki smiled, holding out his hand. “Forgive me. Allow me to make it up to you?”

Tony bit his lip, hesitating, but took the offered hand. “Sure,” he said. “I'm always down for a little making up. Your room or mine?”

“Someone might think to look for you in your room,” Loki pointed out, smiling. “And my suite has more doors to lock the world away.”

Tony grinned. “God, you're sophisticated as fuck. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Loki laughed. He couldn't help himself. He couldn't help how relaxed and... accepted Tony made him feel, and he didn't particularly want to, anyway. “Never in such a colorful way, no. Shall we?”

“By all means- let's go lock the world away.”

* * *

Tony followed Loki down the hall, managing to keep up with Loki's longer legs without too much trouble, and fantasized about flipping Natasha off (not that he'd ever actually do it, he was very fond of having a dick, thank you). Who said he didn't like sex? He loved sex, and he definitely wanted to have sex with Loki. Loki might not pile on the praise or anything, but he gave enough, and Tony knew it was all sincere.

It didn't hurt that he embodied Tall, Dark, and Handsome in all the very best ways possible.

They got to Loki's rooms without running into anyone. Loki relaxed just slightly as soon as the door was locked, meaning there was someone he hadn't wanted to run into out there. Tony filed that away in the back of his mind for later and pressed up against Loki, grinning.

“So,” he said, licking his lips enticingly. “You mentioned making it up to me?”

Loki smiled down at him, sliding his hands up Tony's arms to rest on his shoulders. “Indeed I did. Have you any ideas how?”

“You could let me earn that invitation to a private dinner,” Tony suggested, wrapping his arms around Loki's waist. “That would be fun.”

Loki's smile slipped slightly, and Tony silently cursed. Of course that hadn't been a serious offer, dammit, he should have known that- why would Loki want to give up his private meal for him?

“Or you can just pound me until I beg for mercy,” he backtracked quickly. “That would be fun, too.”

Loki stared down at him impassively for about a million years before he nodded, sliding his hands down Tony's back, carefully avoiding the bruises Clint had given him.

And pressing right down on where Aldrich had shoved him into a shelf.

Tony couldn't help a soft hiss of surprise and pain, automatically pressing against Loki's chest to try and escape the pressure on his back. Loki responded by snatching his hands away, frowning.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Tony assured him. “There was just a thing at school and I kind of have a couple new bruises. Nothing you need to worry about. Seriously.”

“Show me,” Loki said, stepping back and crossing his arms.

Tony sighed, pulling his shirt off and turning around. “It looks worse than it is,” he said, even though he had no idea how bad it looked. It was just bruises, after all- how bad could it be?

Judging by the noise Loki made? Pretty bad.

“Who did this to you?” Loki demanded, touching Tony's back just below the worst of the pain.

“It doesn't matter,” Tony said, shrugging. “Really, I'm fine. It won't be a problem.”

“Tony, this is not _fine_ ,” Loki said, turning him around so they were face to face. “I neglected to comment on the last set because they were for the most part superficial, but this is unacceptable.”

“I can wear a shirt if it bothers you that much,” Tony offered, afraid he could tell where this was going.

“But you will still be bruised under it. I will not risk harming you further.”

Tony bit his lip, then decided to hell with it, just get it over with. Nothing was going to go right today, anyway. “Does this mean you're passing on the sex?”

Loki nodded, and Tony's world crumbled like a particularly unstable cliché.

“Then I guess I'll... see you around,” Tony said, trying for unbothered and missing it by miles. He turned and headed for the door, completely ignoring his shirt on the carpet, wanting to get out before he started crying, because fuck his life. Fuck his life so hard.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Not with force, the touch was light enough that he wouldn't have to work to shrug it off, but the fact that Loki was touching him at all was enough to make him stop and turn.

“Where are you going?”

“You don't want to have sex,” Tony said.

“And that means you must leave?”

“Well... yeah.” Of course it did. Was that some kind of trick question? Was this a test no one had told him about? “Doesn't it? I mean, it's not like we hang out because you enjoy my company or anything, nobody enjoys my company, it's not like it says anything bad about _you_ , really-” and now he was babbling like a complete idiot. Fuck. “Look, it's no big deal. I'm not offended or anything. This isn't me storming off in a huff to go call my girlfriends and bitch about you behind your back. I just know when I'm not wanted, okay?”

“I do not recall saying I do not want you,”

“You just said you didn't.”

“I said I will not have sex with you today. That is not the same as not wanting you, Tony.”

“It isn't?” He hadn't meant to sound so hopeful, but...

“It is not,” Loki said, taking his hand and pulling him away from the door. “I would like you to stay.”

“Really?” Yes, he was aware he sounded like a lovestruck moron. Shut up.

Loki pulled him back toward the bedroom, not letting go of his hand. “I have a salve that should help the bruising,” he said. “It will be difficult to apply it if you leave.”

Tony let himself be led. If Loki wanted to rub medicine all over his back, he was definitely okay with that. He was okay with just about anything that meant he didn't have to go back to his empty guest room by himself.

“And perhaps once that is done, you can consider yourself invited to dinner with me tonight.”

“Sounds good.” Too good to be true, really, but Tony wasn't going to question it. Not right now.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses, only sorrow and regret. orz

Tony wound up spending the night in Loki's room. True to Loki's word, no sex was had. Not even after the backrub with the topical medicine. Which honestly was a pretty new thing for Tony, because he'd had sex with Loki before, so he knew the guy was interested, and there was a bed. They were on it. Yet still: no sex. Tony wasn't sure how that even worked, and he had a hell of a time actually falling asleep.

Loki was gone when he woke up to the sun peeking over the windowsill. There were painkillers on the nightstand again, and someone had brought all his shit from the guest room while he'd been sleeping. It was piled against the wall in plain sight, with all of his electronics set out neatly on top.

He considered, very seriously, just not bothering with school today. It was Friday, he wouldn't be missing any tests, nobody at school would actually miss him if he didn't show, and there was exactly zero chance of running into Aldrich if he stayed right here in Loki's bed all weekend.

Of course, thinking of Aldrich reminded him of Bruce, and he didn't have Bruce's number, and he was still worried about the guy, which meant he kind of _had_ to go to school.

Dammit.

Tony heaved himself out of bed with a sigh, helping himself to painkillers, and located Loki's bathroom: a green-and-gold monstrosity of a room with sunken tub, marble counter, and a mirror frame above the sink. The mirror itself was not in evidence. Something to wonder about later.

He took a quick shower, ignoring the sting of the jets on some of the more spectacular bruises, then went to get dressed. He briefly debated stealing one of Loki's shirts, but that was something only lovestruck teenage girls did, and Tony was not a lovestruck teenage girl.

Also the one he tried on was way too big. Loki was one _tall_ motherfucker.

Dressed in entirely his own clothing, Tony called his driver and grabbed his bag, stepping out into the hall and almost running right into Thor. He backpedaled quickly, bumping into the wall instead, and smiled up at Thor, wondering why everyone in this family had giant genes in them.

“Hey, morning,” Tony said, hitching his bag onto his shoulder. “Sorry, running a little late today, in a bit of a hurry.”

“We need only a moment of your time,” Thor assured him.

Tony frowned, glancing to his other side, and sure enough there was Frigga, all dressed up for the day and looking pensive. Since the hall only went in two directions, he'd have to go around one of them to make a break for it, and he wasn't uncomfortable enough for that just yet.

“Okay, I guess I've got a moment or two,”

“Only a moment,” Frigga assured him. “I know I've spoken to you briefly about your... intimacy with Loki.”

Right. Of course. Since he hadn't started treating Loki like a leper, obviously she felt like she needed to step her game up. “Yeah, and really, I get it, no need to talk more. Really.”

“I know he seems fond of you,” Frigga bulled right over him. “And he may well be for now, but he is fickle. We only wish to spare you the pain of losing his favor.”

Thor nodded gravely along while his mother spoke, then added his own two cents. “Whatever promises he has made you, whatever you hope to gain from him, I fear it will not come to pass.”

“Look, if you're worried this is some kind of power play Howard put me up to, it's not.”

“I'm certain,” Frigga said, putting her hand on his shoulder like she was _comforting_ him or something, what the hell. “We only wish to protect you.”

“You don't need to protect my virtue from Loki, because I don't have any! I've had more sex than everyone on this estate combined, including the gardener! Who, by the way, _I've had sex with!_ ” Thor swelled up like a volcano getting its eruption on, and Tony sighed, massaging his temple in a vain attempt to stave off the headache he felt building there. “Calm your tits, Point Break, it was before he worked for you guys.” And a good thing Loki liked being inside so much- another run-in with Ivan was not what he needed right now. “What I'm trying to say here is if anybody needs protecting from anybody, _Loki_ needs protecting from _me_. Okay? So are we done here, because I really am late for school.” Thor opened his mouth, but Tony cut him off. “Yeah, we're done. Bye.”

He pushed past Thor, who let him go, and headed toward the first floor. This family was seriously screwy. They were acting like Loki was going to get bored of him and kill him or something. They were related to him, and families that weren't his were supposed to look out for the relatives, weren't they?

He made the front porch just as the car was pulling up and climbed in the back, resolving not to think about it for now. He'd just ask Loki about it or something later. For now, he bent his considerable brain power to the task of worrying about Bruce.

* * *

School was buzzing when Tony got there, but he didn't seem to be getting any more glances or stares than he usually did, so the current focus of the rumor mill probably wasn't yesterday's fiasco in the storage room. One worry off his mind, if nothing else.

Bruce didn't show up for homeroom, which immediately sent Tony on a spiral of anxiety and overactive imaginings, so he skipped first bell and hid out by the science rooms to lie in wait for Clint. Not lie in wait as in jump out at him when class was over, more stand out of the flow of traffic and be spotted as soon as Clint left the classroom.

“Hey, Stark,” Clint said. “Bruce stayed home today.”

“Oh, God, is he hurt? Were there like after-affects or something? Is he in the hospital? Oh, God, tell me he's not in the hospital!”

“No, he's fine,” Clint assured him, running a hand through his hair. “He's just avoiding you. And let me stop the spiral of self-loathing before it starts, because he thinks he's doing what you want. He's lost control around friends before, and none of them stayed friends with him afterward- he's avoiding you so you don't have to actually tell him you want nothing to do with him.”

“But he's my science bro!” Tony protested. “I'd never abandon a science bro over something stupid like breathtaking anger management issues!”

Clint snorted, cracking a smile, and shook his head. “I'll pass that along,” he promised. “You're alright, Stark.”

“Excuse you, I am so much more than 'alright',” Tony protested, pretending to be offended, which sent Clint into a fit of giggles that lasted until Natasha appeared and pulled him off down the hall toward his next class.

Tony could have left once he knew Bruce was at home and okay. He didn't even really have to go back to the Odinson homestead if he really didn't want to; he could charm the driver into taking him somewhere else in a heartbeat. But the driver was technically on vacation and not being paid to ferry him around this week, and he'd feel bad if he made him come back so soon. He could tough it out until the end of the school day.

“Tony!” Tony stopped, stiffening, as Aldrich stepped up beside him and tossed an arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I was hoping to run into you.”

“Hey, Aldrich,” Tony responded, doing his best to radiate disinterested. “Hate to greet and run, but I have class and all, so...”

“Forget class,” Aldrich said, pulling Tony closer. “I have a better idea- we can go finish what we started yesterday. Sound good?”

Tony didn't bother answering, just let Aldrich take his hand and start leading him off. Bruce might not be in school today, but Tony might as well get in the habit of not saying no to people. No way was he having a repeat of yesterday. Besides, it was just sex. He'd had sex with Aldrich loads of times already. There was no reason for him to feel so cold.

Aldrich led him off in the general direction of the gym. Probably the storage room again- Tony had no idea why Aldrich liked that room so much, but he wasn't going to object to tumbling mats over a tile bathroom wall. And he probably would call that driver after all. He suddenly didn't feel like dealing with classes.

They'd gone maybe ten feet down the hall when someone stepped around the corner up ahead. Even at this distance, it wasn't hard to recognize the hunky school nurse in all his adorable golden retriever glory, and he was frowning at them.“Tony!” he called, jogging up to them. “Are you busy? I need to check on your injuries from the other day- can you come with me to my office?”

Tony looked up at Steve, then glanced at Aldrich through his lashes. “Not particularly busy, no,” he said. “I've got time to do that.”

“We'll be late for class, though,” the Aldrich protested, like he actually cared about being late.

“I'll give Tony a note,” Steve promised. “You can go ahead- this might take a while, and we wouldn't want you to get in trouble.”

Aldrich looked back and forth between Steve and Tony a few times, then smiled. “Yeah, you're probably right,” he agreed, letting go of Tony's hand and backing up. “I'm sure I'd just be in the way. See you after class, Tony. Be sure to tell me all about it.”

Tony nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Maybe after that up close look yesterday, he was looking to jump on the bandwagon. Tony could deal with that. He was good-looking, and Tony was good at judging where people fell on the lovemaking vs hatefucking scale.

“Lead the way, Mr. Rogers.”

* * *

 

Steve supposed he could have just let Tony go back to class, but he really did want to look him over at least once, and he didn't seem to be much of a flight risk at the moment. So he headed back to his office with one hand on Tony's shoulder, wanting to take advantage of this mood while it lasted. He probably wasn't going to get many chances like this.

Tony was quiet the entire walk, eyes trained on the floor in front of him. He didn't say a word, mutely following Steve's directions until they got to one of the private little exam rooms and the door was closed.

“To be honest,” Tony said out of nowhere, pulling off his shirt and tossing it on the cot. “I didn't figure you for the type. You seem like you'd be all morals and virtue.” He kicked off his shoes, too, then began undoing his belt. “Do you have condoms? Of course you do, you're a nurse. I'm clean, though, and you're the first today, so if you want-”

“Tony,” Steve said, reaching out and gently grabbing Tony's wrists, mindful of the bruised one. “I don't want to have sex with you. I got the impression that you weren't comfortable with that kid, and I acted accordingly. If I was wrong, I apologize.”

Tony shrugged, not meeting Steve's eyes. “Not...  _entirely_ wrong,” he admitted after a beat of awkward silence. “Sometimes it's just easier to get it over with than to throw a tantrum.”

Oh, Lord. He'd known the poor kid had issues, but this seemed like it was much worse than he'd thought. “Tony... saying no when you don't want sex isn't _throwing a tantrum_. It's exercising your God-given right to control over your own body.”

“Yeah,” Tony said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and tugging his hands free of Steve's loose grip. “Because it's always worked _so_ well for me. If we're not gonna fuck, can I go?”

“I really would like to check your injuries,” Steve admitted, letting the subject drop for now. “I can't force you to let me, but I'd like it if you would.”

Tony stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly, then visibly collected himself and shrugged. “I guess it can't hurt. My, uh... my friend seemed kind of worried, too.”

Steve nodded, turning Tony to take a look at his back. Some of the bruising was pretty bad, but not as bad as it could have been, and it looked like somebody had been treating them for him. Maybe the friend Tony mentioned? “Do they hurt a lot?”

“Only if they get pressed on.”

“Take any pain medication?”

“Naproxen.”

“Okay.” Steve stepped back, nodding. “Go ahead and put your shirt back on. Over the weekend, you should probably apply heat to the area off and on, not on for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. It'll speed up healing.”

“Got it,” Tony said, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving his feet back into his shoes. “Back to class with me, then? I'm gonna need that late note.”

“Are you likely to run into that kid again?” Steve asked.

“Aldrich? Yeah, probably. He knows my schedule pretty well.”

“Do you want to go home?” Tony shook his head. “Do you want to stay here for the day?”

Tony jerked in surprise, blinking owlishly up at him. “What?”

“You're always welcome here, for any reason. Even if all you need is a quiet place to hide.”

“I- yeah. If it's not a problem, then, yeah,” Tony said, nodding, his expression almost heartbreakingly grateful. “I'll just. I'm sure you've got actual work, so I'll just hang out here.” He sat on the cot, dragging his bag over. “And... thanks.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” Steve said with a smile, stepping back into the office proper and closing the door to Tony's refuge, being sure to hang up the occupied sign, then sat down at his desk. He was going to walk Tony out to his ride if he had to, and next time he had a chance to trap Aldrich for Natasha, he just might do it.

 

 


End file.
